The Valeditztorian

by Alli Curran

  “Aside from Roberto and his brother, I’m Aimee’s only living relative. If Roberto had died, and then something happened to me, who would look after Aimee? As much as I love Roberto’s family, I wouldn’t want my daughter growing up in Texas. Don’t you understand, Emma? We were lucky to find you and your family. Aimee’s life will be richer, and more secure, with all of you in it. Plus we always wanted a big family.”

  My parents, of course, were thrilled to meet their granddaughter, and Aimee was just as ecstatic to meet them. Now they visit us in the city several times each month, taking her (and usually me as well) to every kid-friendly attraction in town. Together we’re making up for lots of lost time. On Broadway, we’ve already seen Cats, The Lion King, and The Sound of Music. We’ve also visited the Central Park Zoo, all the museums, and every good dessert place in Manhattan. In fact, the only thing Carla and Roberto grumble about these days is the excessive junk food in Aimee’s diet.

  One humid afternoon over the summer, my mother and I stood on the bridge spanning the lake in the Central Park, watching Aimee and my dad paddle around in a row boat.

  “You know, Emma, ever since we met Aimee, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you,” said my mom.

  In the bright, midday sunshine, I studied the lines on her forehead, so much more obvious now than 10 years ago.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry for being so hard on you and not allowing you to come home.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “Thanks, but I also want you to understand why I acted this way.”

  “Okay,” I said hesitantly.

  “When you first got pregnant, I didn’t blame you at all,” she said. “Everyone makes mistakes, especially in the heat of the moment. But giving the baby up for adoption? I never understood your reasoning there. And do you want to know why?”

  “You’re probably going to tell me either way,” I said.

  Ignoring my comment, she continued, “For starters, when a woman has a baby, the baby is supposed to become the most important thing in the woman’s life—the center of her universe.”

  “So much for women’s liberation.”

  With a knowing a look in her eyes, my mother smiled.

  “Having a baby is liberating, because it allows you to focus on what’s truly meaningful in life. Emma…from the day that I gave birth, you became the most important thing in my life.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “Him?” she asked, as we watched my father point out a turtle to Aimee. “He’s just a man. I realize that this is going to sound terrible, but unlike children, husbands and lovers are fairly disposable commodities.”

  “Don’t you love him?” I asked.

  “Of course I love him,” she said. “But no man is as important as your child. So I didn’t understand how you could give away your baby, as though she meant nothing to you.”

  “At the time,” I said, “I was looking at things completely differently—as though she didn’t belong to me at all.”

  “Do you still feel the same way now—that she’s not your responsibility? For goodness sakes, Emma…look at her. Aimee is a beautiful, gifted child. She reminds me so much of you.”

  As I watched Aimee rippling the water with her fingertips, laughing with my father, the answer to my mother’s question was painfully obvious.

  “If I’d never met her,” I said,” I’d probably still feel the same way. But after everything that’s happened, the answer to your question is no—I don’t feel that way anymore. She’s my daughter, and she always will be.”

  My mother sighed.

  “You weren’t the only one who was wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “When you gave Aimee up for adoption, I couldn’t stop myself from envisioning all sorts of terrible things happening to her. Abuse, hunger, abandonment…I worried about every bad circumstance that could possibly befall a child. Then I started having nightmares, which got to be so horrendous that I couldn’t sleep at night.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t realize you went through all that.”

  “It wasn’t a great time in my life. When I stopped functioning at work, your father brought me to see a psychiatrist, who prescribed some medication. Once I was able to sleep again, things got somewhat better.”

  “Dad never mentioned anything.”

  “I asked him not to. I want you to understand, Emma, that even though I never held my grandchild, I thought about her all the time, and I loved her—even before she was born. When I sent you to live with Aunt Pam, I kept hoping that the separation would change your mind about the adoption. Then you followed through with it anyway, which just about killed me. Afterward, seeing you in person was just too painful, since it reminded me of everything we’d lost.”

  Ouch.

  “But I also made a mistake,” she said.

  “You did?”

  “Yes. I never considered the perspective of the adoptive parents.”

  “Carla and Roberto Santos are good people,” I said.

  “They certainly are, and Aimee was very lucky that they were the ones who adopted her. But do you know what I think, Emma?”

  “What?”

  “That Carla and Roberto were even luckier to find Aimee. Can you imagine what might’ve happened to them if they’d never connected with your daughter?”

  “I think about that all the time.”

  “I’m guessing they would’ve gotten divorced years ago, and Roberto would surely be dead by now.”

  “So you’re saying it’s a good thing that they adopted her?”

  “Yes and no. I still don’t agree with your decision to give her away, and normally I’m not a big believer in divine intervention. But in this case, as much as I hate to admit it, I think things worked out exactly as God intended them to.”

  Hearing my mother utter these words, I almost fainted in disbelief.

  “I love you, Mom,” I said, reaching out to hug her.

  “I love you too, Emma. And I want you to know, sweetheart, that I never stopped loving you.”

  Embracing me, she kissed the top of my head.

  While my mother and I were making progress, Red was a different story. For various reasons I debated confessing to him. On the one hand, my secrecy had allowed him to graduate from college with no familial or financial obligations, just as it had for me. On the other, we’d already missed out on the early life of our child. As I got to know Aimee and her family, this loss seemed increasingly significant. Eventually the truth won out.

  One midsummer’s eve, not long after I stood on the bridge with my mother, I mustered the courage to call him.

  “Hey, Red,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Emma, it’s been awhile,” he replied. “It’s great to hear your voice!”

  “Likewise,” I said.

  “So what’s new?” he asked.

  “You go first,” I said, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice. “What’s happening with you and your family?”

  “Oh, not much. Tricia and I are really busy with the kids. Our oldest is taking ballet and swim lessons, and our middle one is playing soccer. With all the driving we’re doing to the kids’ classes, the two of us are feeling like professional chauffeurs.”

  “I can’t say I know what that feels like. Living in the city, I don’t do much driving at all.”

  “Speaking of which, how’s Manhattan these days?” Red asked.

  “Oh, it’s great. I feel like I’m always going to see some terrific new show or museum exhibit. I love living here.”

  “Sometimes I envy you, Emma.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, look at your life. You’re still young, living the big-city life, with no kids and no real responsibility. Plus you’re going to become a doctor. That’s pretty awesome.”

  “About the ‘no kids’ part…,” I
said.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, for quite a long time.”

  “What? That you’re jealous of me because I started young and already have three great kids? I am pretty lucky in that respect.”

  “I do agree that your kids are wonderful, and you’re very lucky to have them. But I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something related, that happened a long time ago…back in high school.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “Do you recall that when we broke up, I transferred to a new school?”

  “Yeah, of course. It was a pretty big deal when you left home.”

  “Remember how I told you that I won a scholarship to an exclusive private school in the city?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “The exclusive boarding school was actually my Aunt Pam’s house.”

  “Your Aunt ran a boarding school?

  “No, Red. I just moved into Pam’s two-bedroom ranch in White Plains.”

  “Not a fancy private school in Midtown?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you didn’t win a scholarship?”

  “I didn’t, though my mother practically paid me to move out.”

  “Why would she do that? You and your mom always got along really well, didn’t you? And why the heck did you lie to me?” he asked, the volume of his voice rising.

  At the time, I wasn’t sure whether he was angry, or afraid of what I might say next.

  “Red, I was pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?”

  He practically whispered the word.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not lying to me now, Emma? ’Cause at the moment I’m not sure what to believe.”

  “No, I’m not lying. After hiding this for a very long time, I’m finally telling you the truth.”

  “Can I ask who the father was?”

  I almost started laughing.

  “Who do you think?”

  “At the moment, I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  “I’m the same person I’ve always been. I just had a baby in high school without telling you.”

  “Let’s get back to the question about the father for a minute, okay?”

  “You, Red. Who else could it have been? At the time, you were my only boyfriend.”

  “And the baby?”

  “You’ve known me since high school. At sixteen, there was no way that I could’ve taken care of a baby.”

  “But you just said you ‘had’ a baby, didn’t you? You didn’t have an abortion?”

  “No. I gave the baby up for adoption.”

  “You gave away our baby?”

  “No, Red. The baby wasn’t ‘ours.’ Don’t you remember all the trouble you were getting into back then? The drinking, the lying….”

  “But I never….”

  “Oh, yes you did. You lied to me all the time. Then you crashed your father’s car, and a week later I found out I was pregnant. So excuse me for being presumptuous, but at the time, it didn’t look like you were ready to become a father.”

  “But Emma, that should’ve been my choice to make.”

  “Well I wasn’t ready to be a mother, okay?” I yelled, my voice breaking on the last word. “And it wasn’t up to you to make that decision for me.”

  Then I started sobbing.

  “Go ahead, Emma,” said Red. “Cry if you want to. I’m so angry with you, I don’t feel badly at all. Before I hang up, though, I need you to answer one question. What happened to the baby?”

  “She’s not a baby anymore,” I said, struggling to get the words out. “She’s an amazing nine-year-old girl, and she lives a few blocks away from me in the city, with her parents.”

  “Her parents?” said Red.

  “Her adoptive parents.”

  “That’s just great,” he said sarcastically.

  “Yeah, except that a few months ago, she almost lost her father. And if she hadn’t stolen an experimental cancer drug and injected it into her dad, he probably would’ve died.”

  “Whoa, Emma. Slow down, there. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but one thing’s for sure.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “You are freakin’ crazy,” he said.

  “No I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are! So after I hang up, do me a favor and don’t call back.”

  “Call my mother, Red.”

  “What?”

  “If you don’t believe me, call my mother. She’ll confirm everything I’ve just said.”

  “I don’t think so. Go find a good psychiatrist, Emma. Goodbye.”

  “Bye.”

  For a few weeks following that conversation Red refused to speak to me, but eventually he calmed down. After discussing the situation with my mother, the diplomat, Red traveled to New York to meet Aimee, and she completely won him over. Next came Red’s wife, followed by their three children, Aimee’s half-siblings. Like a bunch of dominoes, they all kept falling at her feet. Fortunately, Red and his family are pretty open-minded people. Then again, after meeting Aimee, who wouldn’t be? Not that I’m biased.

  Which brings us back to the holidays, with all of us under one roof. My family has never felt so large, or so whole. From the kitchen, my mother glances at me and smiles. In the fancy living room, Roberto and my dad clink their beer mugs together. As Aimee races through the apartment with the other children in a game of tag, the kids all look flushed and happy, and none of the adults has the heart to scold them. Next to the Christmas tree, Red and his wife share an almost indecent kiss, which doesn’t upset me at all. At least I think it doesn’t. Perhaps I’m finally over him.

  Did I mention David, the sexy balding guy from my ballroom dance class, who’s standing by my side? Remarkably, the man is an unmarried orthopedic surgeon, living on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Though we reside on opposite sides of the city, we’ve been meeting regularly to perfect our technique, both on and off the dance floor.

  Recently we went swing dancing together at a club in Midtown.

  “Wow, Emma,” he said, leading me toward our table at the end of “Rock This Town” by the Stray Cats.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “During that entire song, you didn’t step on any of my toes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “It’s a miracle.”

  “No sweetheart,” he said, kissing the back of my neck. “It’s not a miracle. You’re an excellent dancer.”

  “But I’m so uncoordinated.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. In fact, you’re particularly coordinated when I’m lucky enough to have you in my bedroom.”

  Instantly, I felt my cheeks flush.

  “I love it when you start turning colors,” said David. Whispering in my ear, he asked, “Did you know that your back turns red when you orgasm?”

  “Umm…I had no idea. Which I guess makes sense, since it’s usually pretty hard for me to see my back.”

  “Good point. Say, since you’re looking so…hot, would you like a drink?”

  “I’d love one.”

  David walked me over to the bar, his muscular arm wrapped around my shoulders.

  “What can I get you guys?” asked the bartender, a young guy with a green Mohawk.

  “Ginger ale like usual?” inquired David.

  “Sounds good.”

  “The lady would like a ginger ale.”

  “And how about you?” the bartender asked.

  “Oh, I think I’ll have the same,” said David.

  “Can I interest you in a beer?”

  “No thanks,” said David.

  “Why not?” said the bartender. “You don’t need two designated drivers.”

  “In this city,” I said, “you don’t need any designated drivers. The public transportation is excellent.”

  “The
n why no alcohol?”

  “Alcohol makes me sick,” I said.

  “And I’m allergic to it,” said David.

  “Allergic…really?” said the bartender.

  “Yeah. Even if I drink just a little bit,” David explained, “I get this really bad allergic reaction.”

  “What happens?”

  “First, my nose gets stuffy. Then my eyes start tearing, and my face swells up.”

  “Don’t forget the vomiting,” I said.

  “Right. After all the facial symptoms, I lose my lunch.”

  “Oh, that’s nasty,” said the bartender. “Now I definitely wouldn’t sell you a beer, even if you asked for one. But do you know what the good news is?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It sounds like you two are a match made in heaven.”

  “You are so right about that,” said David, leaning over to kiss me.

  For a moment time stopped, as his lovely, full lips met mine.

  When we reluctantly separated, I whispered in his ear, “That was a great kiss.”

  “I agree,” he said.

  “You know what?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “I love public displays of affection.”

  “In that case, do you think we should do it again?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” I said.

  Cupping the back of my neck with one of his strong hands, he pulled me in close.

  “After we finish with the public stuff, though,” David murmured, his breath warm in my ear, “do you think we could move on to some private displays of affection, back at my apartment?”

  “Most definitely,” I replied, as he reeled me in for another kiss.

  Incidentally, the calluses on David’s hands were acquired from weight lifting, and he’s got quite the body to show for it. Of course that’s not why I like him. Beyond his fabulous physique, David is a genuinely caring person, who’s not afraid to verbalize his feelings for me. Okay, I’ll admit that the man does have a number of interesting items in his closet (at this point in time, he’s asked me not to reveal any details—that’s a story for another day), but as far as I can tell, they’re not a reflection of any significant psychological problems. In light of my previous relationship, dating David is like sipping a cold drink of water in the desert—completely refreshing. Most importantly, my daughter insists that he’s a keeper, and above all others, I trust her opinion. Who knows where she gets it from, but Aimee is one smart cookie.